


Coffee, Humanities, and the Russian Army

by marlowe_tops



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Avengers go Clubbing, Bucky and Steve snarking and flirting, Bucky is happy, Everyone is Friends with Kissing and Heavy Petting Benefits, Everything is fluff and nothing hurts, M/M, Multi, University Professors AU, scandalous wingman natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlowe_tops/pseuds/marlowe_tops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History professor Bucky has a crush on the new Ethics professor, and the two of them start seeking every opportunity to flirt and tease each other, but neither is sure if the other wants something serious. Natasha and Clint take it upon themselves to 'help'. 60% Sass, 30% Fluff, and 10% Hot Grinding.</p><p>~</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve said, catching his eye as they picked up the last few pages and giving him a smile. Bucky felt like a six year old with a crush and grinned stupidly back at him. “I’m sorry to have made such a mess.”</p><p>“I’m sorry that I’ve put all your pages back in the wrong order.”</p><p>“He’d be happy to help you arrange them properly,” Natasha piped up, still sitting in the peanut gallery and sipping coffee. “He just loves that kind of all-nighter.”</p><p>Bucky was going to swap out all the colors on her color-coded highlighters, he swore to god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee, Humanities, and the Russian Army

**Author's Note:**

> Steve/Bucky is by far the primary fic pairing, but this is your warning that they do spend most of one scene in a grinding/kissing foursome with Clint and Natasha.

Bucky was sitting in the Humanities building common area with Natasha and Clint when the new Ethics professor came in, tripped over the tear in the carpet, and sent papers flying everywhere.

The three of them all sat up and leaned over in their chairs, impressed by the range of the room that he’d managed to cover in papers. Bucky let out a loud bray of laughter, and then pushed forward out of his seat, crouching next to the poor embarrassed professor and starting to help gather his papers. 

“I think you’d better try again with a bigger stack,” Bucky said, grinning. “Your papers didn’t _quite_ make it to the far doors.”

And then the new guy looked up with a self-deprecating grin and Bucky’s heart stopped. He had this all-American face, with sharp cheekbones and sinful lips, and the most gorgeous, intense, long-lashed eyes…

“Steve Rogers,” the vision said. “Ethics.”

Reaching for a page, Bucky’s hand missed, groped blindly, missed again, and then he somehow managed to overbalance in his crouch and sat down hard on his ass. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

The vision looked amused, still gathering papers. “Was one of those your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he managed, holding out his hand and trying to look like he _meant_ to sit down on his ass right here yes this was the plan all along.

Steve shook his hand firmly. Of course he had the perfect handshake. Warm and firm, with just a little bit of confident motion to the shake. And now Bucky was rhapsodizing over handshakes. Fantastic. 

“Pleased to meet you. I’m new.”

“I noticed. I—“ Oh, right, helping. Bucky grabbed a few more papers, getting up to move farther away for some of the really scattered ones. Natasha put her feet up on Bucky’s abandoned chair and sipped at her coffee. When Bucky glanced her way, she smirked. 

Classes hadn’t even started yet and already Natasha had fresh ammo to tease him about.

“These two are Natasha and Clint, by the way. Also professors. Don’t trust either of them, they have a great love of pranks.”

Steve stood quickly and held out his hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Glancing over, Bucky got a view of the perfect ass in those just slightly tight slacks that the new professor was wearing, and promptly dropped half the stack of gathered papers. Natasha leaned over and arched a brow at him. Hoping that he wasn’t beet red, Bucky resumed gathering papers.

“Thank you,” Steve said, catching his eye as they picked up the last few pages and giving him a smile. Bucky felt like a six year old with a crush on his kindergarten teacher again, and grinned stupidly back at him. “I’m sorry to have made such a mess.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve put all your pages back in the wrong order.”

“He’d be happy to help you arrange them properly,” Natasha piped up, still sitting in the peanut gallery and sipping coffee. “He just loves that kind of all-nighter.”

Bucky was going to swap out all the colors on her color-coded highlighters, he swore to god.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Steve said, still smiling his friendly, golden-retriever smile. “But I do have a—“ He checked his watch, “oh gosh, I’m late. I’m so sorry, I have to run. But I’ll see the three of you around. I think. I hope.” 

Beaming one last time at Bucky, Steve turned and hurried down the hall.

“Who says _oh gosh_?” Clint asked.

Bucky sat down hard in his chair and took a deep breath.

“You think he’s cute,” Natasha said.

“I have eyes, yes, I think he’s cute. Jesus, did you see him? Those eyes, those lips, that jawline, his nose, it’s shaped like a…” Searching for words, Bucky caught sight of the incredibly amused expression on Natasha’s face and decided that shutting up would save him from more relentless teasing than he was already due. He made a feeble hand gesture in the direction Steve had gone to concede that yes, he was cute.

“We didn’t get a view of his ass from this side of the table,” Clint commented.

Bucky swallowed and waved his hand, unable to even gesticulate coherently. “It was one hell of a view.”

“Ask him out,” Natasha said.

“I can’t just ask him out, he only just made it through the doors and a coworker is asking him out, it’s not … it’s not professional,” Bucky said helplessly. “It would be like ambushing him. And unfair. He must get ambushed all the time.”

“Do you think he’s built under that awful tweed he was wearing?” Natasha asked conversationally of Clint.

“He looked built to me,” Clint said. They took a sip of coffee in unison. 

Bucky lifted his own cup only to find it empty, and sighed. “Have I mentioned that I hate you both?”

~

After he’d finally finished the revisions on his syllabus, with no help whatsoever from the two losers he called friends, Bucky headed upstairs. He found Steve on the third floor, walking around looking confused.

Grinning at the sight of him, Bucky waved to get his attention. “Can I help you find something?”

“A311,” Steve answered, double-checking his sheet to make sure that was right. “I was told it was on the top floor.”

“Oh, sure. That’s over in Woodbury.” Bucky nodded his head in the right direction and started walking, expecting Steve to come with. 

“I’m in the wrong building?”

“Sort of. Humanities was built as an annex on Woodbury, even though Humanities is the larger building and they’re treated like two separate buildings. Also the floors don’t match up.”

Steve took that in and processed it. “Why didn’t they just build it as a separate building?”

“Mysteries of the ages.” Bucky led him up a short flight of stairs and through into Woodbury, leading him to the correct door. It was dark and empty, without a name plate. “Is this your office?”

“I think so.” Steve fished a key out of his pocket and tried it in the lock, having no success getting it open. 

“Can I try?” Bucky offered. When Steve stepped aside, he took the key and jiggled it, putting his shoulder into the door and lifting up on the knob until it opened. Grinning, he handed the key back.

Steve looked speechless. “I’m going to need step by step lessons in what you just did.”

“Natasha’s door opens the same way. Woodbury has, uh, personality.” Leaning against the doorframe, Bucky peered into the dark little office. “Welcome to the world of shitty offices for the new and untried professors. At least you’ve got a window. Oh, and half the grad students and untenured professors know how to jimmy open any door in Woodbury, so don’t leave anything too valuable in your office and be always on the lookout for pranks.”

“I have to ask, is it easier to jimmy the doors open than it is to unlock them properly?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, considering that. “Well, you need two paperclips and a ruler to jimmy the doors, so depending on what you have on hand…”

Steve’s lopsided grin returned. He walked into his office, having to stoop in the low ceilings, and took a seat in the hard wooden chair just so that he wouldn’t have to continue stooping. “Where’s your office?”

“Ketchum. Top floor. Sort of floor. Top of the stairs.”

“Your office isn’t on a floor?”

“I feel it would be inaccurate to describe my office’s location as being on a floor.”

“You do _have_ a floor, though, to stand on?”

Bucky started laughing. “I do have a floor, yes. And a window that really opens, which is rare.”

“You never told me what you teach.”

“Russian history,” Bucky said, then immediately corrected himself. “American history.”

Steve looked confused. 

Bucky sighed. “They hired me for Russian history, but my Cold War Russia class is canceled for insufficient enrollment about two times out of three, so I always get stuck teaching American History After 1865 to the freshmen instead. I’m supposed to have another class or two of Russian History, and I’ve even created lesson plans and curricula and pitched them repeatedly, but everything gets caught up forever in academic bureaucracy and I have no seniority so I’m not a priority.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Bucky gave him a grin and then shrugged. “When I get to teach Cold War Russia, it’s a small upper-division course with lots of good discussion and I love it. Dealing with the freshmen in American History is something I can deal with in exchange. I just love teaching.”

“I appreciate this, by the way,” Steve said. “The orientation. I would’ve still been wandering around the top floor of Humanities looking lost until I eventually found myself locked out of my office.”

Those big, faithful-puppy eyes of his were going to be the death of Bucky. “Hey, rescuing lost young professors is my hobby. Besides, it’s only fair after I laughed at you for dropping your papers.”

“You laughed and then you helped me pick them up. We were already fair.”

“Well, then I guess you owe me one,” Bucky said. “Any thoughts on how you’re going to return the favor?”

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

“Black. Extra sugar.”

“And then later I’ll buy you coffee again so that you’ll be back to owing me one,” Steve threatened.

Bucky laughed and shook his head, grinning. “Conniving, Professor Rogers. Let’s make it later. I actually did have business in the Humanities office before I ended up rescuing a lost puppy.”

Steve got up even though he had to hunch, and held out his hand. “Thank you again, James.”

Bucky opened his mouth to correct him, realizing that Steve hadn’t yet heard the nickname, but there was just something so charming about how he said _James_ that rendered him speechless. He shook the hand, distracted by the warmth of it and having to actively focus on letting go again.

“Anytime,” he said, voice cracking. Covering it with a wide, cocky grin, he gave Steve a casual salute and headed away down the hall.

~

It wasn’t necessarily that he was _haunting_ the Humanities building, so to speak. It just so happened that Bucky spent the week finding every possible excuse to go ask Natasha about one thing or another. But Steve was never in his office at the same time and so there were no more opportunities to flirt. 

So when he finally did run into Steve on the stairs to his office, Bucky lit up with a grin. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Steve said, grinning back at him and at the way Bucky suddenly turned around so that they were both heading down the stairs together. “Were you not going up?” 

“It can wait. How are you settling in?” 

“A girl fell asleep in my first class,” Steve said. “I am that boring. First day, students fast asleep.”

“Maybe she was dreaming of you,” Bucky said, and then wanted to kick himself for what an _awkward_ line that was. But he’d always had a policy of covering his screw-ups by going even bigger, so he stopped, tilted his head, and gave Steve a shameless grin. “I would be.”

Steve stopped and stared at him, getting this huge blushing grin on his face and sticking his hands shyly in his pockets. “I doubt she was dreaming about me. But I’m flattered to know that you have been.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” Bucky said, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s as they resumed walking down the stairs. He liked seeing that blushing grin, and wanted to see plenty more of it. “Seriously, though, don’t take it personal. Even the first week, students often have an intense amount of stress and responsibilities. Sometimes especially in the first week.”

They ran into Natasha near the bottom of the stairs, who immediately got her wickedest grin. “Well, if it isn’t Arts and Sciences’ cutest couple. You boys getting along?”

“We’ve barely seen each other,” Steve said. “Natasha, right? I’m sorry, I’ve been busy all week. I don’t think anyone has seen much of me.”

“I’ve been seeing plenty of Bucky,” she said.

Bucky glared at her.

“Sorry, Bucky?” Steve asked, looking between the two of them like he’d missed something.

“Me. I’m Bucky. It’s an old nickname that stuck. Especially with the likes of Natasha making sure that I never forget it.”

Lips pressing together to fight a smile, Steve’s eyes sparkled. “Can I call you Bucky?”

 _Keep looking at me like that and you can call me anything you want._ “Might as well,” Bucky said, trying to shrug off the affect Steve had on him. “All my other friends do.”

Steve lit up at being called a friend. He was so easy to please, it was a little ridiculous. And a lot endearing. Bucky got stuck staring at him, forgetting how to talk again.

“You should join us for coffee at five,” Natasha said. “We all usually go after classes for the day, if schedules allow. Today it’s five pm at Buchanan’s on the Hill.”

“I’d love that,” Steve said, beaming at her. The loss of Steve beaming at _him_ was like the floor beneath him had just dropped a foot. “Five o’clock. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Natasha said, giving Bucky her ‘thank me later’ smile and swanning past them up the stairs. Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill her or kiss her.

“Bucky?” Steve said, looking unfairly amused.

“That’s James Buchanan Barnes to you, Professor. It’s short for Buchanan. And you aren’t allowed to tease me about it.”

“I like it.”

“You like it because it’s so easy to tease me about it,” Bucky argued, trying to fight down the perpetual grin he got in Steve’s presence. 

“It’s adorable,” Steve teased.

“You’re also not allowed to call me adorable.”

They both paused when they reached the outer doors. Bucky really should head back upstairs to the office, but he didn’t want to go yet. 

“I’ll see you at five?” Steve said.

“It’s a date,” Bucky promised, and then wanted, yet again, to kick himself.

Steve just grinned and pushed through the doors, leaving Bucky staring after him in a lovesick daze.

~

When he showed up, Natasha was surrounded by a flock of grad students speaking in rapid-fire Russian, and Steve was looking like he needed to be rescued.

“ _What are we arguing about?_ ” Bucky asked in Russian, dropping into a seat. The Russian army turned to stare at him.

“Eurovision,” three of them replied in unison, and Bucky immediately regretted asking.

Steve looked at Bucky like he’d been _betrayed_. “You, too?” 

“Sorry,” Bucky said, in English now. “I guess you noticed Natasha heads up our Russian department? Tiny though it is. We have a lot of overlap in students, and she tends to pull me in for backup when she needs another Russian-speaking professor. I’m it.” 

“And what are they talking about?”

“Eurovision. Just… don’t ask. Nothing will make sense unless Natasha decides we’re keeping you and you get cornered for one of her required viewing youtube sprees.”

“We’re keeping him,” Natasha interjected without taking a breath between one Russian sentence and the next.

Bucky gestured toward her to indicate ‘case in point’. “Mark your calendar.”

Stealing a chair from a nearby table, Clint joined them and looked around in puzzlement at all the heated Russian. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t ask,” Bucky and Steve warned him.

Clint put his hands up in surrender.

“Hey,” Steve said, gently nudging Bucky’s side. Bucky glanced over with a grin, and realized only now that there’d been only one seat left at the table, and it was the one next to Steve. He wondered if it was Steve or Natasha who had been responsible for growling at anyone who tried to take Bucky’s place. “Can I get you coffee? I did promise.”

It might become a problem how impossible it was to refuse those blue eyes anything. Speechless again, Bucky nodded.

Steve’s hand grazed his shoulder as he got up, making Bucky feel warm and completely infatuated.

“ _Who wants to talk about Bucky’s crush on the new tall blond professor_?” Natasha proposed cheerfully. 

Every head at the table swiveled toward Steve’s retreating form, except Clint, who looked around in confusion at what he’d missed, and Bucky, who dropped his head into his hands.

“ _He has a really nice ass,_ ” one of the grad students piped up.

“ _Pity about all the tweed._ ”

Bucky swore all of them out in fluent Russian. Half of them took notes.

When Steve came back to the table, his fingers brushed Bucky’s as he handed over the coffee. 

“Thanks,” Bucky said, trying to ignore the way his heart rate increased in direct proportion to Steve’s proximity. He hadn’t had a crush this intense since high school. Of course, he also hadn’t ever, ever seen anyone quite as breathtakingly gorgeous as Steve. His broad shoulders and trim waist were obvious even through the college professor chic he seemed to wear, and Bucky’s mouth watered at the irrepressible thought of getting him _out_ of it.

Trying not to stare, Bucky inevitably found himself staring.

Steve grinned shyly back at him and dropped his own eyes, focusing on his coffee cup.

There was a collective coo and a sprinkling of “oh, they’re _precious_ ” from the Russian army. 

Steve looked around in confusion. “Eurovision again?”

“Eurovision,” Bucky agreed.

“Ohhhhh,” Clint said, as if that explained _everything_.

~

He was really hopelessly, embarrassingly besotted.

Pushing away a stack of papers to be graded, Bucky leaned back in his chair, balancing on the edge of the rickety wooden legs and enjoying the little spark of adrenaline. Every spare moment seemed to contain thoughts of Steve. Steve’s lips puckered against his coffee cup. Steve blushing and grinning good-naturedly at Clint and Natasha’s teasing. Steve’s blue eyes looking into his own. Steve—

“Bucky?” Steve said, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe.

Bucky lost his balance and fell backward in his chair with an entirely undignified yelp.

“Bucky!” Steve quickly set down a pair of coffee cups on his desk and helped him to his feet, looking him over worriedly. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Just my pride,” Bucky groaned, rubbing at his lower back and grimacing. “Not your fault. My fault for balancing on my chair like a damn teenager and then being so easily startled.” He looked up and found Steve still studying him with sweet, genuine worry, and couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not hurt.”

“I brought you coffee,” Steve said, picking up one of the cups and holding it out to him. Bucky took it gratefully, picking up his chair and putting it back on its feet. There was only one chair, and he felt bad not offering it to his guest, so he perched on the edge of his desk and gestured at the chair. 

Steve hunched his shoulders awkwardly, probably also having an internal debate over the etiquette of offering and accepting chairs in overcrowded offices. He sat, and leaned back just the slightest bit to make the chair tilt up a few inches.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Bucky warned him. He reached a foot out, planting it on the edge of the chair and using that to weight the chair back down.

Only then did he realize that his toe was about two inches from Steve’s crotch. Pulling his foot back quickly, Bucky’s cheeks heated. “I see you found my office.”

“I like your really weird not-floor, not-tower landing.”

Bucky started laughing. “You do not.”

“It’s whimsical.”

“It is not.”

“Is so,” Steve said, fighting laughter of his own. 

Bucky sipped at his coffee, grinning like an idiot. This guy was gorgeous, funny, and had started seeking out Bucky’s company. No wonder Bucky was completely infatuated.

“Why is your office so far from Natasha’s? I thought that the school had a tendency to group disciplines together.”

“They do, but no one cares about the Russians and—as demonstrated, they tend to stick younger professors in any old spare closet.” Bucky sipped at his coffee, feeling comfortable with Steve even despite the way his heart hammered with want in his presence. “So now that we’re no longer even with the coffee, I owe you again. Any thoughts on how I can return the favor?”

“Not throwing me out of your office is a start.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. It’s not office hours. Get out.” 

“Make me,” Steve said, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Bucky’s mouth went dry with temptation, but he didn’t actually want to manhandle Steve _out_ of his office. He’d be far more inclined to manhandle Steve into his office. And over the desk.

He’d forgotten how to talk again, and wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been staring open-mouthed at Steve after that suggestion. “Uh,” he said, stupidly.

“If you’ve got papers to grade, I can go,” Steve offered. 

“At least stay long enough to finish your coffee,” Bucky said. His voice came out soft. Not quite a plea, but certainly not anything stronger.

Steve smiled and nodded, settling back into the chair.

"So what's your story, Professor Rogers?"

That smile turned sad. "You're going to regret asking," he warned. 

"Hey," Bucky said, catching his gaze and holding it to reassure Steve of his sincerity. "You don't have to tell me. But if you want to talk, we're friends. I'll always make time for you." 

Smile shifting into a warmer, blushier version of itself, Steve tilted his head and watched him. "You're a genuinely good person, aren't you?"

"Don't you dare take that slander out of this office, Rogers," Bucky warned. "I will track you down if I hear you spreading such egregious lies."

"My parents were both professors," Steve said. "I went to art school to be an illustrator. But there isn't much call for illustrators. I spent a few years trying to make it, but when my mom got sick I dropped everything and moved back home. I was working two jobs, and started my law degree... I don't think I've slept since 2005."

Steve sighed, eyes down now as he talked through it. "Her medical bills were through the roof, with no end in sight. In two years it had drained her savings. Another year and we'd plunged into debt. We thought... If I could just get myself a decent career I could support us both. We had it all planned out, even if it meant I'd go without sleep for a decade.

"But then, one day, I got home and she was in her favorite chair. A book on her lap. I touched her hand to wake her up, and she was... cold."

Bucky swallowed, heart aching for him. 

"Went through the next years in a daze. Finished my schooling. She always wanted me to go into politics, though she would never have pressed me into it. She would have been so proud if I'd stuck it out in art school. But now that she's gone I feel like I can't. All those years of work, it feels too selfish to give them up for my unexceptional art career.

"So it was law and ethics for me. In a few years, I'll start working toward a political career. I want to change the medical system that failed her. All that insurance and bureaucracy, and we have a health care system that protects the rights of corporations, not people. I can't allow that. I have to fight for a government that protects people. That starts here."

It was hard to know what to say after a story like that. Bucky ran his thumb over the edge of the cup, watching it for a moment and shaking his head with a wry smirk. He wasn’t sure how this ridiculously perfect asshole was even real. “I can’t believe you called me a good person when you are so clearly a saint.”

Startled, Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not a saint.”

“That was the most noble thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve designed your career to make the world a better place. You teach ethics. You’re a saint.”

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Yeah, born and raised. Why?”

“I was born in Brooklyn. Only spent a few years there, but… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve always been trying to go back.”

“Somewhere along the way you moved away and learned Russian?”

Bucky shrugged. “Life happens.”

“I told you mine,” Steve teased.

“Oh, come on. I can’t follow yours. No one could follow that.”

“Try me.”

Everything about this guy made Bucky want to settle down and swear eternal loyalty. Especially with that ridiculous I-have-faith-in-you grin he was currently wearing. But if Steve was going into politics, he probably wouldn’t want to link himself to a homosexual relationship.

The thought made his heart ache, but Bucky knew that aside from a good-natured willingness to return flirting, Steve had shown no real indications of interest in a serious relationship.

“My parents died when I was a little kid,” he said. Steve had told his whole story. He deserved nothing less in return. “My grandparents raised me. They were Russian immigrants living Upstate. I grew up on their stories. That’s why I care so much about Cold War Russia. They lived it, and they told me all their stories. It feels real to me. More real than my own life, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

Steve gave him a wry smile. “Want to hug it out?”

If it had been anyone else, Bucky would have said no. Always did. He didn’t believe in bleeding on other people. Just stick on an emotional bandage and keep moving. But he still couldn’t refuse anything to Steve’s loyal puppy smile. “You know what? I really do.”

Steve stood, waiting until Bucky set aside his cup and then hugging his arms around Bucky’s shoulders to pull him in close. Bucky hooked his arms around Steve’s waist in return. 

Most of the hugs Bucky could remember were quick, back-patting things. Neither of his grandparents had been physically affectionate, and Bucky had just gotten used to maintaining distance from people—physical and emotional. But Steve pulled him in tight without any hesitation, offering a genuine, warm hug like he couldn’t remember ever experiencing before. He felt… safe. 

Bucky let himself relax, resting his head against Steve’s and taking the warmth and comfort offered. When at last Steve pulled away, he checked Bucky’s expression to make sure he was steady on his feet before letting go entirely. Bucky sank back to sit on the edge of his desk. He felt better. All of his emotions and sorrows felt pulled to the surface, but they rested a little lighter there.

“Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat. “I think I needed that more than I knew.”

“Me too,” Steve said, looking sheepish but grateful. “We should do this again sometime.”

Bucky laughed. “We can start a club: Idiots who don’t know how to ask for hugs.”

“Should we invite Clint and Natasha?”

“Honestly? I’ve known Natasha for years and I’m way too scared to hug her.”

“May I ask, are she and Clint…?”

“Undefined,” Bucky finished for him. “Undefinable. And nobody’s business but their own. Why, were you—“

“No!” Steve went red and fidgeted. “No. Not that I wouldn’t be tempted if she—if either of them—I… that’s not what I’m looking for right now.”

“Especially not if you’re considering a political career.”

Steve looked surprised, then confused, and then smiled wryly. “You don’t think the American public would smile on casual polyamory?”

“I don’t think they’re ready for that,” Bucky said, but his smile wasn’t as wide this time and suddenly he wanted out of this conversation. It included too many things he couldn’t have. “I really should get back to my papers. Thank you for the coffee. And the hug.”

“Of course. Anytime. And you’re welcome.” Steve stood quickly, politely pushing Bucky’s chair back into place and giving him another of those irresistible grins. “I’ll see you around.”

~

Cold War Russia, unsurprisingly, was canceled.

It left him with free time for the semester, and specifically a free hour that lined up with one of Steve’s classes. He let himself into Ethics 1001 along with a crowd of students, and took up a spot near the back. Steve was already at the front of the class setting up the projector. He looked so damn wholesome in his freshly-starched shirt. And yet simultaneously so fuckable.

“Hey, aren’t you—“ One of the students next to Bucky made a confused face.

“Your American History professor? Yes. Don’t slouch.” 

The three students in his immediate vicinity all sat up straighter and Bucky grinned, not bothering to improve his own lazy posture. Messing with freshmen was such a wonderful hobby.

“Don’t they make you graduate before you’re allowed to start teaching?” A nearby student sassed him. Okay, so that one wasn’t a freshman.

“I’m supervising,” Bucky countered, leaving it at that.

Steve was as unfairly good at teaching as he was at everything else. He was witty and engaging, and it was clear the students liked him. As he talked, his gaze swept the audience, until the moment his eyes caught on Bucky. Blush coloring his cheeks at once, his lips split into a grin and he stared for a couple of seconds before looking away. “What was I saying?” he asked the class, as if he’d just lost his train of thought. Someone cued him and he continued, although the blush and the grin stayed and he kept glancing back to where Bucky was sitting. It put a grin on Bucky’s face in return, because there was no way he could resist the fun of being a distraction to Steve.

Some of the students seemed to catch on, and a wave of whispers and giggles went through the class, which made Bucky’s blush worse. 

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” Steve asked, pausing in his lecture with a long-suffering sigh. “All right. Class, this is Professor Barnes. He’s sitting in today with us. Get your giggles out.” He gestured to where Bucky was sitting, and Bucky waved awkwardly at the class. A more open wave of giggles and whispers went through the students.

“Are we good now?” Steve asked, waiting for them to settle down, and then continuing his lecture. 

When class was over, Bucky lingered behind. He waited while the inevitable of students came up to ask questions and noticed that more than a few girls glanced at Bucky and then giggled when talking to the professor. 

Trying not to blush too much himself, Bucky enjoyed watching Steve’s blushes and squirming until the last of the students filed away. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, making his way up to the front of the class with hands stuffed in pockets to keep himself from fidgeting.

“You came to my class,” Steve said, with one of his beaming grins. “Did I do okay?”

“Are you kidding? You’re fantastic. Stop being unfairly good at everything, you punk.”

Steve scratched bashfully at the back of his own neck. “Half the class just congratulated me on having such a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“Sorry not sorry about any rumors that just got started.”

As Steve started gathering up his things, Bucky picked up a few things to help him carry upstairs.

“Are we going for coffee?”

“No, actually, we’re going clubbing. Non-optional clubbing.”

Steve paused and rubbed a hand over his mouth to fight a grin. “Non-optional clubbing?”

“Natasha’s word is law. If you want to try to get out of it, that’s your own neck. But if you’re willing, I can pick you up at nine.”

Nodding, Steve gave him a lopsided grin, watching Bucky’s eyes. “I’d love that.”

“Good. And, Rogers?” Bucky tugged at the lapels of Steve’s jacket, smirking. “I want to see you in the tightest-fitting shirt you own. Preferably black. And some jeans that show off your ass.”

“Aye, aye, Sarge,” Steve said. His gaze was so warm that Bucky got lost in it for a second before he realized he was still holding Steve by the lapels and let him go.

~

It was Bucky’s turn to drive. Natasha and Clint were bickering cheerfully in the back seat about some mysterious in joke. Even though Bucky was the one who shared a language with her, it was Clint who seemed to have a private language with her made up of secrets, jokes, and unspoken cues. 

They pulled up in front of the address Steve had given, a little apartment complex, and Bucky texted their arrival. His eyes were still on the phone when Clint suddenly said “Holy shit,” and Natasha practically climbed over him for a better view.

Steve had taken his fashion advice, and his tight black t-shirt clung intimately to a chest that was far more sculpted than Bucky would have dreamed. The jeans were low-slung and plenty tight. 

As Steve got into the car, all three of them were staring openly. He looked around, confused but cheerful. “What?”

Bucky cleared his throat, trying to remember how to talk. “You clean up real nice, Rogers.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Steve looked him over appreciatively, and Bucky was glad he’d taken time with his own wardrobe. He’d wanted to show off, and had picked out a tight fishnet shirt with a small mesh, tight black jeans, and a plain black leather collar, finishing it up with eyeliner.

“Told you he was built,” Clint said. 

“I’m flattered to know you three have been discussing my physique.” 

“We’re going to need details on how well he’s hung once you finally get around to fucking him,” Natasha told Bucky, punching his shoulder.

“Wow,” Bucky said, lifting his brows and putting the car into drive. “I am so not responding to any part of that statement.”

“New guy’s designated driver,” Clint said.

“New guy is not designated driver,” Bucky argued. “New guy is going to have fun tonight. I’m driving.” 

“New guy has a name,” Steve said.

“New guy can stuff it,” Bucky replied.

~

When they got to the club, Natasha and Clint knocked back drinks and headed straight out on the floor while Steve and Bucky claimed a table. The place was just starting to fill up, and Bucky bounced a little on his toes, feeling the beat of the music start to flow through his blood.

“Give me the keys,” Steve said, holding out his hand. 

“What? No. You’re having fun tonight. This was already decided.” 

“I’m having fun sober. I can’t get drunk. Even if I try, it takes about a bottle of vodka and I go straight from sober to alcohol poisoning with no fun parts in between. Whether or not you’re drinking, I’m not going to be drinking tonight. So you should give me the keys and you should drink.”

Bucky peered at him, not sure whether he was serious. “Are you bullshitting me?”

“I’m an extremely honest person, Buck. Keys.”

Frowning, because he didn’t like sticking Steve with being designated driver when it was his turn, Bucky took the keys from his pocket but didn’t yet hand them over.

“I want you to get drunk tonight,” Steve said. “As a personal favor to me.”

Bucky gave him a skeptical look.

“You owe me one,” Steve reminded him.

“Damn you and your guilt coffee.” Bucky sighed and handed over the keys. 

Steve grinned at him. “Good. Now go get some alcohol on in your system and come join us on the dance floor.”

Shaking his head and grinning back at him, Bucky turned away from the table and pumped his fist into the air. “I’m getting _drunk_!”

Natasha and Clint cheered.

He swung by the bar to knock back a couple of drinks while he watched his friends dance. Steve had already joined Clint and Natasha, and the three of them looked obscenely attractive, grinding together with Steve in the middle. He felt a tiny bit jealous, but was mostly thrilled that the two of them were so willing to include Steve. 

It didn’t feel right to join them, not when he felt so unsure about the nature of his relationship with Steve, so he finished off his second drink and headed out onto the floor on his own. Quickly finding a skinny, dark-haired guy who was an okay dancer, Bucky started dancing with him, letting the heavy beat of the music flood through his senses.

He’d only been dancing with the guy for a few minutes when he suddenly felt strong hands sliding around his waist and pulling him back against a solid, muscular body. A moment later, warm lips brushed against the join of his neck and shoulder. His dance partner got a nervous look on his face and found somewhere else to be. 

Surprised by the gall of whoever just grabbed him, but not yet ready to be offended, Bucky turned in the man’s arms. He found himself face to face with Steve, who didn’t look even the tiniest bit repentant. Steve, who had just chased off a guy for dancing with him. Bucky would be lying if he said that didn’t get him hot. 

Swaying in time with the music, Bucky started to dance again, staying close and running his hands over Steve’s body as they moved together. Unlike his last partner, Steve was a naturally skilled dancer, responding easily to every one of Bucky’s moves. It was incredibly easy to lose track of time, forgetting everything else in the world as he let his hips sway and his hands roam.

At some point, dancing turned into grinding, and Bucky turned again in his arms, pressing back against Steve’s chest as he rolled his hips shamelessly against Steve’s crotch. The arms around him tightened, one hand sliding up the front of his shirt, and lips beginning to brush soft, sweet kisses along the exposed skin of his neck above and below that collar. Bucky had to grin when he saw people stealing glances at them, lust-filled and greedy, and he noticed the way Steve’s grip tightened just a little when any of those glances for a minute too long. 

He didn’t think that Steve was going to let him dance with anyone else tonight, and Bucky was absolutely okay with that. The only exception was when Natasha and Clint came over to join them, book-ending them in and grinding their bodies together. Natasha was the best dancer Bucky had ever seen, and he felt lucky when she stepped into his arms. 

Steve’s grip on him didn’t tense, and Bucky stopped worrying about it after Natasha leaned up over his shoulder and kissed Steve, squeezing Bucky between them while two pairs of hands wandered over his body. 

It felt like a physical loss when Steve pulled partially away, and Bucky glanced back to see that Steve had a hand around Clint’s waist, and the two of them were kissing heatedly. 

Jaw falling open, Bucky stared at them in lust, watching the passionate way that Steve kissed and feeling an intense need to have those lips against his own. He didn’t have long to stare before Natasha was pulling him back, claiming her own kiss from Bucky’s lips. She was a phenomenal kisser, and his faint jealousy quickly evaporated as he returned it as good as he got. It was a challenge to match her skill, but Bucky damn well wasn’t going to disappoint her. 

When Steve’s body sealed against his spine again, Bucky thought he’d gone to heaven. The combination of Natasha writhing against his front with her tongue in his mouth and Steve hard and possessive against his back was incredible, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d never been so turned on. 

At last, Natasha let him go, her eyes lingering on his with a gaze that was part smug and part predatory before she pounced Clint and returned to dancing with him. 

Bucky’s eyes followed after them, but he barely had a moment to breathe before Steve’s hand curled around his jaw, turning Bucky into a kiss. Their bodies were glued together, and he could feel how hard Steve was as they started to kiss, playful at first and then increasingly intense. Steve was such a generous, attentive kisser, and Bucky could feel how Steve played with him, learning Bucky’s reactions and how he liked to kiss. There were minutes where Steve would take control of the kiss, devouring Bucky’s mouth, and then other minutes where he’d playfully give over control, flicking his tongue against Bucky’s and then darting it away so that Bucky would give chase.

He’d completely forgotten about dancing, aside from the way that he ground against Steve in time with the heavy beat of the music. They were both achingly hard and it was obvious. Breaking the kiss, Bucky caught his eyes and pushed his tongue into his cheek a couple of times to indicate _blowjob_ before jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom. 

He started to pull away, intending to lead Steve, but Steve just pulled him right back in so that he wasn’t going anywhere. Blinking in surprise, Bucky studied his expression, trying to make sense of it. Steve shook his head and kissed him again. 

No blowjobs. Okay. Bucky tried not to feel rejected by that, but his enthusiasm had been cooled by the refusal. So Steve was okay with kissing and grinding in this weird, flirtatious friendship of theirs, but no overt sexual acts. Not even letting Bucky blow him in a club bathroom.

It was good that Steve’s kiss was such a thorough distraction, and Bucky focused on it for a while longer before deciding that he needed to be more drunk. Maybe a lot more drunk. 

He grabbed Clint and Natasha and the four of them moved to one of the upstairs lounge areas of the club, doing shots and playfully making out in a tangled heap on one of the couches. They exchanged partners fluidly, but Bucky’s eyes always wandered back to Steve, feeling the alcohol start to turn his buzz into lonely bitterness that he couldn’t so much as blow the guy he was in love with even while the four of them exchanged heavy petting this easily. 

Looking away from Steve stroking Clint through his jeans, Bucky caught Natasha’s eye and gave her the signal that he wanted to leave. She instantly flicked Clint’s shoulder, communicating the message in one quick glance, and Clint and Steve started to untangle. 

Once they were on their feet, it turned out that Bucky was by far the drunkest of them, having trouble walking in a straight line. Steve kept a tight arm around his shoulders as they made their way down the stairs, keeping Bucky upright as they made their way back to the car.

Steve tucked Bucky into the front seat, fussing over the three of them until everyone was adequately buckled in, and then he started up the car. 

Dazed with alcohol, Bucky rested his head against the back of the seat, watching Steve’s profile as he drove. He could hear Natasha and Clint tittering with occasional sleepy laughter from the back seat, both of them more asleep than awake, but his focus remained on Steve. In profile, lit by the red glow of street lamps and tail lights around them, Steve was as impossibly attractive as ever. He glanced over occasionally, always meeting Bucky’s eyes with a smile, but he primarily kept his attention on the road.

“Anyone awake enough to give me directions?” Steve asked as they got near home. 

“Clint and Tashenka’s place is over there,” Bucky said, gesturing. 

“Turn here?”

“No, up…” Bucky pointed vaguely. “Next one.”

“Okay.” Steve signaled to turn when they reached the next light. 

“Now left,” Bucky said, pointing right. Steve turned right, following Bucky’s semi-coherent directions until they stopped in front of a house. 

Natasha leaned forward, kissing Bucky’s cheek wetly and mumbling some of the Russian endearments that she liked to use to make him squirm when they were both really drunk. 

Looking amused, Steve watched the two of them until they stumbled their way inside, and then returned his attention to Bucky. “What did she say to you?” 

“Among other things, she called me her little tiger.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Don’t make me come over there,” Bucky mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. 

“Hey, Bucky. Buck.” 

Bucky ignored him. He felt warm, and his lips tasted like Steve. He just wanted to sleep.

~

When he woke up, he was in a bed with sheets that were the wrong color.

Sitting up in confusion, he regretted it instantly and dropped back into the pillows with a moan. The unfamiliar ceiling above him spun.

Pulling one of the pillows over his face, he waited for the pounding in his head to subside enough for rational thought.

After a few minutes, he heard the sounds of someone moving around in a nearby kitchen, and realized that he could smell food. Shortly after that, Steve appeared in the doorway. “Hey. You’re awake.”

Bucky groaned at him. 

Unreasonably cheerful, Steve sat near him on the bed, putting a plate of food on the nightstand. “Come on, sit up. Drink some water.” 

“Damn your sober cheerfulness,” Bucky grumbled at him, but he made an effort to sit up and then drank the water, taking the accompanying painkillers. “My head is pounding.”

“You had a lot to drink last night. I tried to keep you drinking water, but I admit I got… distracted.”

“By Clint’s ass?” 

“And yours. Mostly yours.” 

Bucky grunted. 

Steve put the plate of food into his hands. “Eat.”

Surrendering, Bucky took the fork and put some of the food in his mouth, chewing. He felt vaguely nauseated and his head was still spinning, but the eggs and potatoes tasted really good, and he hungrily ate a few more bites. “You can cook, too?”

“Breakfast.”

“I think you’re just being humble. What have I told you about being unfairly good at things?”

“To stop. But I don’t think you mean it.”

Grunting again, Bucky finished off the plate while Steve watched, and then accepted more water and coffee. “Do I look like a raccoon?”

Steve grinned. “A particularly debauched raccoon, yes. In a fishnet shirt.”

Bucky smiled weakly back at him. This felt really nice, having Steve taking care of him. He wished it was something he could keep.

“Wait, why am I in your bedroom?”

“You gave me directions to get Clint and Natasha home, and then passed out. I couldn’t get you to wake up for long enough to give me directions, so I just brought you back here and put you to bed.”

“Where’d you sleep?”

“On the couch.”

“Did you carry me over your shoulder or princess-style?”

“Princess-style.”

Bucky tried to glare at him, but suspected that the effect might have been somewhat dampened by how charmed he felt by this handsome idiot.

~

Once he’d sobered up and showered, Bucky thanked Steve for his hospitality and insisted on going home, where he could recover and wallow in his own stupidity. He was pretty certain he remembered most of the night before, including the awful moment of offering Steve a blowjob and having it rejected.

It was stupid to be so hung up over it, especially when their entire friendship was based on flirtation. He’d hit a boundary. So what? He already knew what it was like to have a friendship with Clint and Natasha that was heavily sexually weighted but never went past the occasional drunken kissing and heavy petting. He was comfortable with that. Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of a threesome, but he loved having kissing and groping benefits with them both. Steve was just another of the same, and that was what helped them all get along so well.

Except that Bucky wanted so much more, and it hurt.

Steve texted him a couple of times over the weekend, friendly texts to ask how he was doing. Bucky ignored them, and spent most of the weekend on the couch watching his collection of Russian cartoons that were usually reserved for drunken Tuesdays with Natasha. She was eternally borrowing them as teaching aids for her classes. One day, Bucky wanted to be able to teach a class specifically on eras in Russian children’s cartoons. Natasha called this ‘inflicting our childhood on the unsuspecting Americans.’

_I’m American._

_Yes. So am I. But we’re also Russian._

By Monday he felt almost normal again. He managed to suppress thoughts of Steve for most of the day, until Steve turned up at the front of his last class of the day.

Stunned, Bucky blinked at him, but he supposed that from Steve’s point of view this was fair retaliation for Bucky attending his class, and Steve had no reason to know that Bucky was moping over him. Faking a grin, Bucky plowed his way through the class, trying not to think about the object of his affections in the front row.

Steve stuck around until the students had all dwindled out, and then walked up to lean against the table where Bucky had spread all his papers while Bucky cleaned up. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Bucky avoided his gaze. “Been feeling under the weather all weekend. It’ll blow over.”

“Buck.”

Pushing down the pain and want he felt, Bucky lifted his head and gave him his best cocky grin, ready to pretend for the next decade that he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers. “Yeah?”

Steve studied his expression, looking unsure. “Um. Well, now I’m hoping this doesn’t come across as incredibly inappropriate with… whatever you’re going through. I came here to… I was scared you might have gotten spooked, with how I acted at the club. I came here to ask you to dinner, but … now I’m worried that it might have been a real dick move to show up unwelcome to one of your classes when you weren’t taking my calls.”

Trying to make sense of any of that, Bucky stared at him. “Wait, what?”

Hanging his head like a guilty puppydog, Steve pushed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Which part?”

“You came here to ask me to dinner? Like… a date dinner?”

“Yeah. And if that’s not okay, if you were trying to blow me off and I just _completely_ misread, I will go and never bother you again, I promise, I am so sorry.”

Bucky was still just staring at him, stunned. He’d absolutely misunderstood Steve’s intentions. “Like you want to be my boyfriend kind of date?”

Looking a little more hopeful, Steve lifted his eyes and gave him a shy grin. “I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since you fell on your ass trying to help me pick up my papers.”

“Yes,” Bucky said, and then realized it wasn’t clear what he was saying yes to. “I mean—yes.”

That grin lit up wide. “Yes, you’ll be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, of course I’ll… but what about your political career?”

“My… what? What does my political career—Oh, Buck.” Steve laughed, rubbing at his face. “Christ, is that why you kept making those sudden exits of yours? Bucky, I’m not going to lie about my sexuality for the sake of a political career. And if I do go that route, and if you want to be by my side for it, I hope you have some idea of how _proud_ I would be to have you for a partner.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open in shock, heart flooding with emotion and hope. “Me? I’m not…”

Steve stepped closer, gently reaching out and drawing Bucky into his arms, giving him plenty of chance to pull away. “We don’t need to plan our lives right this minute. To start with, we just need to plan dinner.”

Smiling hopefully, Bucky relaxed into his arms. “But why—in the club. You turned me down for a blowjob. I’ve spent the weekend miserable because I thought I crossed a line.”

“Bucky, no.” Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, holding him close. “It wasn’t anything like that. You idiot. I turned you down in the club because you were drunk and couldn’t give consent.” 

Bucky stared at him. “You… are you for real?”

“I promise next time we go clubbing I’ll say yes if you want to swap blowjobs in the bathroom,” Steve teased, warm and gentle. “But I want to do much better by you, our first time. Your comfort and consent is a really big deal to me.”

Bucky was speechless. He couldn’t even comprehend how this sweet, selfless idiot was real. And wanted to be his boyfriend. Hugging him tight, Bucky pressed his face against the side of Steve’s neck. “You stupid punk. How dare you be so perfect.”

“You’re a stupid jerk,” Steve replied, his arms strong and warm around Bucky’s waist. “Say you’ll be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Bucky promised, lifting his head to kiss Steve and only breaking off when they were both breathless and grinning. “Yes. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote the bit about Bucky sadwatching Russian cartoons, [this is the particular one I had in mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqdiEUp6s4E).


End file.
